I’m in the Dallas/Ft. Worth airport, coming back from one of America’s vain pursuits: vacationing. For some reason, I get a ravenous appetite whenever I travel by plane, even if it’s for a short amount of time.
Craving a Wendy’s hamburger, I order a 1/2 lb. cheeseburger combo. (And by the way, eating greasy, unhealthy food is another vain American past time, but since this is the first time I’ve had a Wendy’s in probably a year or so, I give myself some slack.) Just as I’m about to dive into this greasy delight, an overweight woman, who appears to be in her late twenties/early thirties, saunters up to the counter with an ugly Chihuhua in some type of carry-bag.
She kisses its ugly little snout as she waits to order.
To say I become a bit peeved at this would not be far from the truth, but I can’t allow this affront to my sensibilites to ruin my meal. Instead, I ponder this modern day obsession women have with their dogs.
On the flight to Dallas, one of the American Airlines stewardesses, a semi-attractive blond in her late thirties/early forties, was taking a break in the tiny cubicle where stewardesses sit near the black of the aircraft; she was positioned right in front of me, facing my direction, at an easy viewing angle.
As she was playing with her smart phone (yet another vain pursuit of Americans, all three of which I confess I indulge in to my shame), she suddenly brightened, like she just saw a picture of her long lost lover. She turns the phone to one of the other passengers that earlier she had engaged in conversation with, sitting a couple of rows ahead of me, and showed him what she was gushing over.
You guessed it: a dog. Then, flipping the phone back towards her heavily mascared face, she lifts the screen to her ruby-red lips and kisses it.
The thought suddenly struck me that I don’t often see women—ever, as a matter of fact—kiss their children in public or gush over their pictures in public places, or show their pictures with evident glee and happiness to those around them.
Isn’t this strange, perverse even? What vile turn have we taken in America where women publically fall all over themselves with dogs, but yet rarely, if ever, show the same public adoration and affection for their own children (if they even have any)?
Truthfully, I find it revolting and revealing; revolting that a woman, the one time tender and loving caregiver of a family’s most cherished possession, children, now pour that love onto an animal that licks its private parts, has fleas, sheds, urinates and defecates in public, and consumes its own vomit. Revealing because it is yet another clear marker that portends the unraveling of the American culture.
Think with me for a moment and see if I speak the truth: how many pictures do you see on Facebook or the media that portrays pets, and how many pictures do you see that portrays kids? I say without hesitation that there is an avalanche of photos about pets and a mere trickle about children.
And how about articles on the internet news about pets as opposed to those on children? We are drowning in articles about “rescue” pets, pets getting their nails done, prosthetic limbs, dog and cat food, pet healthcare, pet daycares, pet hotels, Leo the Lion, ad nauseum. Now compare this with articles about children and tell me something is not profoundly wrong in this country.
Speaking about Leo the lion…interestingly, Leo’s demise came right on the heels of the Center for Medical Progress’ expose of the macbre organ harvesting of aborted babies. And who garnered the lion’s share of the attention from the media?
Where was the outrage from women over babies organs being harvested in a manner that would have made the Nazi’s bursting with pride? And we know that if it was revealed that the organs of pets (especially puppies) were being harvested for medical research, the White House would have been burned down with Obama, the Senate and the House joining in the torching.
Our eyes need to be opened to see what is happening all around us. And friends, it does not portend well for our future.